The Night We Met
by Skribble.Writer
Summary: Grayson is haunted by his past - still working on where to go with this one.


Reference: I do not own any DC Comic characters. I just adore the Dick Grayson character and want to write about him. I wrote this without anyone editing it. So be warned there are mistakes. I had this idea in my head and in order to move on from it I had to write about it. Would love to hear your thoughts on a way to move forward with the story. I have some ideas, but not sure which road to take with it.

This basically involves Grayson and the many emotions he is dealing with. His character is fascinating to me and deserves the angst/hurt comfort attention.

Let's continue...

They stood for a minute, eyes looking at one another. A doubt,nagging poked at her stomach, the words that came next would bring on feelings she wasn't ready to accept. He looked up at her, big brown eyes full of warmth, and said, "there is only

one of us that has been through that kind of pain."

Each one knowing who he spoke of, but only one could find the strength to say the name, "Nightwing".

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The moon shone in the room, a soft blue light hugged over the young man who sat with his head in his hands. His shoulders were slumped forward as waves of sobs rang through his body. Tear drops ran from his cheeks and met their end

on scared skin. Memories were flooding his mind, taking him back to the night he lost them. He had both of them, then most of them, and now neither of them. He was just so sad.

Haunted by their ghost, most days he could shake it, and then there was the occassional slip of strength. Feelings like this would come along, triggered by a moment early in the day or evening. This time it was a little boy with his mother. The young man was grabbing coffee before work and noticed the mother with her child. She held him close, eyes full of love and a warm smile nestled between her cheeks, as he stood next to her holding a mountain dew can. She fixed his uncooperative hair that resembled a bowl-cut while bright blue eyes hid behind his blondish bangs. The young man gave a smile and the boy responded back with an enthusiastic wave and sweet grin.

Once he left the shop, his first step was met with memories rushing back. The smell of his mother's perfume, her smile, his father's stories, their touch...his thoughts trailed off as his heart felt a tingle of ache and anger. "Why today?", was all he could say.

A car alarm woke him, he found that in the dead of day, in spite of the electric lights, the city seemed foreign to him. In the more sequestered streets – commuters begain their morning journey, and at a distance from the 24-hour convenience store – the sodium gleam of the street lamps, or the flickering striplight from a sleepy minicab stand, offered little consolation. It was easy to feel disoriented in the city, especially after being tired from roaming its distances in the darkness. For in the darkness, above all perhaps in familiar or routine places, everything acquired a subtly different form or volume.

Dick glanced at the brown leather strap that held a greyish lug with two silver hands. It was now 7:50, he was late. He began running in order to make it on time.

His raven hair tumbled against the wind as he ran through the sea of gray suits with ripples of colorful ties. Bumping, slight pushing, and multiple pardons escaped his breath. He was almost there but decided to slow down the closer he got. A familiar voice, with an authoritative tone echoed, "if he was to run, determinedly, it invited the impression that he was on the run, either from oneself or from another". He took a breath and held it for a moment before opening the door. He gave a frustrated sigh that followed with,"Ah,Bruce, even when you aren't here...you're here."

Torn between frustration and heartache, Dick had to continue on with his day while explaining everything was fine and nothing was wrong. Even though his eyes spoke a different story.


End file.
